The main issue here is the significance a person might put on character flaws in general or my specific character flaws as pertains to a particular context; and this can be viewed as continuum between these two extremes of specificity. Here are some possible issues:
1) Is the flaw a flaw in and of itself, or is it a flaw only in comparison to some norm, standard or expected?
2) Does the designation of "flaw" carry a good/bad determination with it, or just a right/wrong implication? (For example, it is generally good to look both ways before crossing a busy street, but it's not necessarily virtuous to do so).
3) If a flaw seems to be related to certain experiences, what is that relationship? Is it causal? Is it correlational? And if it is either one of these, to what extent or how strong is that relationship? For example, if we decide there is a relationship between my naivety and my experiences with the Vienna mission, what is that relationship? Did the naivety cause the experiences? Was it one of several causes of my experiences? Or was it not a cause at all and only related to my experiences by way of some type of correlation?
Some of these questions could only be answered in regards to specific experiences, but I think they are very important. If my flaws (any one of them, some of them, or all of them) caused certain experiences, and was the main or only cause of the experience, then it's my experiences are virtually all my fault. I think you'd have a hard time rationalizing that, however, even just based on what I've already shared here in this blog. My belief that generally the fact that I had these flaws were contributing factors to my experiences; they may have been necessary, but not adequate causes.
However, if hubris or pride is he cause of my problems, then it is my fault and I was wrong in being so set on mission work in Eastern Europe (which I think would be the flaw most like "hubris") despite all apparent odds against my reaching that goal. But another aspect common in Greek tragedy is that of the response of a force greater than the individual, as in this quote from Merriam-Webster:
" b : a serious drama typically describing a conflict between the protagonist and a superior force (as destiny) and having a sorrowful or disastrous conclusion that elicits pity or terror"
So then you have, in very general terms, me vs. something much larger than myself. If that "something much larger than myself" is God, then that brings up a whole slew of other issues, because the Bible has a whole lot to say about suffering and why it happens. But if the "something larger than myself" was some human institution (that may or may not have been acting in accordance with God's will, just as I also might or might not have been), that opens a different set of possibilities regarding causation, blame and the like.
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I got back from a doctor's appointment and starting physical therapy at a new place. The neurologist is ordering a nerve conduction test for my legs, and the physical therapy is focusing only on my neck. They really seem to have a good regimen for my neck, but that means I'll now have to do the fibromyalgia exercising on my own.
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Back to the Kalervo (the text):
"If you are frustrated and have an aggressive attitude to the people of the host country, they will sense this hostility and in many cases respond in either a hostile manner or try to avoid you. In other words, their response moves from a preliminary phase of ingratiation to aggressive ridicule and on to avoidance." (p. 180)
I never experienced this in Vienna or Siberia. I can't think of a single instance that describes an interaction like this. In Siberia there were a few times when I was angry at particular people, but other Russians agreed with me in those cases and it regarded specific people in specific situations, not anything I generalized about everyone. For example, I was very angry with the head of the program that had invited me to teach English there in the first place when he maneuvered me into a compromising situation; I raised a scene but after that he dropped it and let me be. That was one of the situations where I got angry in Siberia.
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"People have a way of accepting their culture as both the best and the only way of doing things. This is perfectly normal and understandable. To this attitude we give the name ethnocentrism, a belief that not only the culture but the race and nation form the center of the world. Individuals identify themselves with their own group and its ways to the extent that any critical comment is taken as an affront to the individual as well as to the group." (p. 181)
There are certain things I need to thank my education for, and this is one of them. In my European Studies undergraduate degree studies we learned about the people and culture in a way that respected them. A lot of language programs, for example, might focus on literature and grammar-translation approaches to language learning, but we got a balance of both worlds, and the experiential exposure, whether through Russian "cadre" (spiritual focus groups that met once a week on campus, each dealing with a different topic), through the annual language retreat (where English was not allowed), or through the quarter abroad, made a strong impression on me. If anything, I might have gone a bit overboard to sort of idealize European cultures (at least the ones I was most familiar with).
And in Siberia, where I taught English as a foreign language, I was careful not to use materials that were overly ethnocentric or otherwise give the impression that I thought American culture was the best or better than Russian, because, as I'm apt to say from time to time, I'm an equal opportunity critiquer. I could go on and one about this, but I'll stop for now before I get too far ahead of myself.
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"What can you do to get over culture shock as quickly as possible? The answer is get to know the people of the host country. But this you cannot do with any success without knowing the language, for language is the principal symbol system of communication." (p. 182)
I did mention that I knew some German already when I arrived in Vienna and Russian before I arrived in the USSR (several months before the putsch), didn't I?
And I did mention that part of the problem in Vienna was that the mission didn't like that I was putting too much effort and attention into Austrian activities and relationships, didn't I? And that I avoided Westerners for the most part when I lived in Siberia?
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This topic is important because I'm labeled as having culture shock by the mission and they use this diagnosis as a basis for how they treated me at one crucial crossroads during my time with them.
Also, just for the record here are definitions of "culture shock" and "reality shock":
"Reality shock occurs when a new employee's expectations, established prior to joining an organisation, differ significantly from what is experienced upon entering the organisation." (From Dean, Roger A. (1983). Reality shock: the link between socialisation and organisational commitment. Journal of Management Development, 2(3), 55.)
Culture Shock: "a sense of confusion and uncertainty sometimes with feelings of anxiety that may affect people exposed to an alien culture or environment without adequate preparation" (from the Merriam-Webster Medical Dictionary)
I just wanted to make this clear in case there was any confusion, because this distinction was apparently poorly understood by the highly educated leadership of the Vienna mission, so I thought maybe it's best to be very explicit about things to avoid potential misunderstandings. Of course, it's very possible that my readers might be more astute in this regard than them.
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I've reached the end of this article. I'm sort of on a roll, but I think I'll go ahead and post it and then start a new post while I do my even stimulator session.
